


When A Door Opens

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Racing, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Community: au_bingo, Draco Malfoy - character, F/M, Hermione Granger - character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a door opens, there are choices to be made. When it closes, the universe may be different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When A Door Opens

**Author's Note:**

> AU_Bingo fill, round two. Prompts: auto racing, parallel worlds, myth (which I took as 'urban legend'), trainers, and turn of the century (for which I thank Kshandra, who commented that she knew a roller coaster with that name. Slightly sideways take on the prompt.). 
> 
> Part two, parallel worlds, contains references to/implications of a slavery-based economy and universe.

**Door Number One:**  
He pulled the door shut and leaned against it, reveling in the comparative calm inside the private club. No chattering, roaring crowd, no piss stench of beer and popcorn and hot dogs, no children screaming or engines revving. The only sound was the occasional clink of glasses or flick of lighters and the lower murmur of the television on the wall, its huge screen displaying stats and bios of drivers as the sports commentators gave each other false, toothy smiles. The wall of windows on the far side of the club looked over the track where the stock cars were entering the dozenth lap of the trial. Draco ignored all of it as he turned to the bar. "Scotch, rocks," he said to the dark-haired woman behind the counter. "And make it quick."

He pulled an ashtray close as the bartender dropped a cork coaster in front of him. Draco eyed the logo of the racing organization and snorted. Flipping the coaster over, he rolled his eyes at seeing the logo there as well. He lit his cigarette and blew smoke at the ceiling. "Can't fucking get away from these things, can I?" he muttered to himself.

"Strange attitude for an owner," the bartender said. She put his glass down on a plain napkin and swept the coaster out of sight.

Draco shrugged. "Might be a different attitude if I was winning. My driver's hungover, my car's got a shimmy in the rear axle, and I had to fire my crew leader for fucking some girl who's barely sixteen. If we qualify for the race at all, I'll be stunned."

"Bad day all around, then." The bartender sounded disinterested, like she'd heard it all before, but when Draco looked up, she was leaning against the counter behind her, arms folded as she watched him. "You sure you should be drinking in that case? Just going to add to your problems, you know."

"You're new," he said, ignoring the question. "What's your name?"

"Hermione. Just started yesterday."

"Hermione." Draco pointed two fingers at her, his cigarette clenched between them and drifting smoke through the air. "If I lose one more race, I won't be able to afford alcohol. Keep 'em coming while I still have the cash."

She glanced over his shoulder at the television and winced. "Speaking of."

Draco swore under his breath and turned to watch the replay. In slow motion, the green and silver car careened into the grass, black smoke pouring from under the hood. Draco drained the Scotch as the driver climbed out of the car's window, shoved off his helmet, and vomited on the fender.

"And another great performance by Malfoy Metal," shouted someone by the television. Draco looked, then glared at Potter, ensconced in a sofa with his wife. Potter grinned and gave him a thumb's up. "Damn shame," he said. "Really. Terrible."

Draco flipped him off and turned back to the bar. A fresh glass waited. He raised a brow at Hermione, who shrugged. "On the house."

 **Door Number Two:**  
The keeper, wrapped in layer of robes and veils, closed the heavy gate behind her. Hermione stripped off her gloves and pushed her hood back, nodding to the keeper. "I only need one today," she said. A flick of her wand dried the muddy court and she strode across it to the booths by the wall. She ignored the keeper who skittered in her wake and tried to point out the qualities of the men in each open-sided shelter.

One red-headed man caught her attention for a moment, but she shook her head. Not right. He had a coarse look to him and wouldn't fit with the others she owned. Some of the ranking women demanded that all of their men match in looks without regard for temperament, but Hermione considered personality and skills above appearance.

She stopped at the last shelter and examined the man in the shadows. Blond and pale, with a narrow, pointed face. Slender, so unlikely to be good for labor. A shame, she thought. She needed a new field worker and that had been her reason for coming to the market. This man wouldn't fulfill that position. She tapped her wand against her jaw. Still, there was something about him that drew her eye.

The keeper fidgeted beside her, fabric-wrapped hands fluttering. "No, Miss, no. This one is not, is not useful. Arrogant, this one. Dangerous. Will not serve, no. Miss can see many others that need less breaking. This one is meant for the oarships, no good for anything but the ocean floor. Just here passing through, Miss, not this one."

"Silence." She held up her hand to hush the keeper, then snapped her fingers. "You," she said, staring at the man in the shadows of the shelter. "Step forward."

He moved, limping slightly as he approached her. The chain around his ankle slithered through the straw. Some men acted frightened, to look easy to train. Others tried flattery and flirtation, thinking to attract a ranking woman for bed service. This one met her eyes without cringing or flinching away, but he didn't smile or pose for her either. He stood, hands loose by his sides, and he watched her eyes.

"Arrogant," she said, lifting his chin with the point of her wand. She drew it down his throat and prodded between the laces holding his shirt closed, silently watching his reaction. He did nothing but take a deep breath, didn't move away or let his expression change. Interesting, she thought. "I see that's not inaccurate. What are you trained for?"

"Herbs," he said. "Potions and poisons. Apothecary."

Hermione swallowed at the low, rolling drawl of his voice. Seven serpents, he was from the wiltlands, near the stone rings if she was any judge. With luck, the keeper had no idea what this man could be worth when healthy and kept well. The magic in that domain was closely tied to field and crops. If this man was trained as an apothecary, her failing fortunes could be restored within the year, her business revitalized and profitable.

She gestured to him to push up his sleeves. He looked at her for a few breaths, just long enough that she thought he might need correction, then he held his left hand out and shook the coarse fabric away from his forearm. Hermione lifted a brow at the skull and snake burned into her skin. Not just an apothecary, she realized. Trained in the dark temple. He _would_ be trouble if she took him on.

She dismissed him with a flick of her hand and turned away to speak with the keeper. "This one will do," she said in a bored tone. "I find myself amused by the thought of training this supposed arrogance out of him."

The keeper scampered for his ledgers and Hermione glanced over her shoulder one more time at the man. He intrigued her. Perhaps he was arrogant and dangerous, but perhaps that was what she needed. Time and training would tell her if this was a good bargain, and if not, she'd take him to chambers for a few days before selling him back to the keeper. She liked arrogance in her bed servants.

 **Door Number Three:**  
Hermione stared after the woman leaving the pub. She watched, mouth open and eyes wide, until the door closed, then leaned back into the thick padding of the booth. She took a long drink of her light beer and shook her head. "Did you ever hear the story of the woman who bought a pet Chihuahua?"

Draco lifted his brows as he swiped a bit of foam from the top of his glass. He sucked it off his finger and shrugged. He leaned back as well and propped his feet up on the bench opposite them with his hand on her thigh beneath the table. "There's a story about a woman and a little annoying yappy dog?"

"Several," Hermione said. She grinned and tipped slightly to rest against Draco's shoulder. He shifted to put his arm around her, fingers combing through her hair. Hermione gave a contented sigh and nestled in against his side. "But I'm referring to one in particular. See, it's always a friend of a friend that this happens to. Or someone heard about it happening to someone else. They're called urban legends, a type of modern myth."

"You're lecturing again, love." Draco rubbed the back of her neck and laughed quietly when she huffed in frustration.

"Well, anyway." She took another drink and continued, waving her beer bottle for emphasis. "It's always some woman who doesn't have very good eyesight. Like that woman who left, great big glasses or a squint or something like that. She wants a pet, but she doesn't want to spend a lot of money on one. So one day she's walking down the street and she sees this little dog cowering against a building. So she picks it up and she takes it home. She thinks she found a free Chihuahua."

"Who'd want one of those dogs?" Draco said with a wrinkle of his nose. "They're terrible. Give me a good wolfhound or an Afghan hound. Some sort of hunting dog."

Hermione elbowed him in the side. "Not the point, you git. Let me finish my story."

"By all means." He tipped his head back against the booth and closed his eyes.

"So, she thinks that she has a free Chihuahua. She bathes it and buys it little clothes, like jackets and jumpers and things. Puts a bow on its tail, varnishes its claws. All those sort of things that some women do, like the dog's a little doll. And after a few days, she takes it out for a walk and shows it off to her friends, and it's only then that somebody informs her that she doesn't have a little dog. She has a rat!"

Draco waited for Hermione to finish her story, then realized that she had finished and was looking at him with anticipation. "That's it?"

"What? You don't think that's hilarious?"

Draco shrugged and nodded toward the door. "Hate to tell you this, Granger, but those sort of 'urban legends'? Probably more effective if you tell them to someone who isn't a wizard. That woman actually _was_ carrying a rat. I know a man who has a hook for a hand, I'm pretty sure Aunt Bella had spiders in her hair, and--"

"Dammit, Malfoy." Hermione slumped in the bench and sulked. "If you knew what urban legends were, why did you let me go on like that? Especially if that one happened to be true."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "Because you're cute when you go on like that. Now, let me tell you a _real_ story. This one happened to someone that a friend of a friend knew back at Durmstrang, and it involves a vampire pig."

Hermione snorted and settled in to listen to the story.

 **Door Number Four:**  
"Close the bloody--" The owl burst out of the window and flapped away, moving as fast as its small wings would carry it. Draco sighed and tipped his head forward to rest on the empty perch. "Window."

Hermione pulled the mullioned glass shut and turned, chewing on her lower lip. "Sorry. But he'll be back, won't he?"

"No." Draco held up one hand, a set of jesses and a leather hood dangling from his fingers. "No, he won't. Because that one hasn't yet been trained to know where his home is. He hasn't been trained to return. Hasn't even been trained to fucking damn well recognize humans as anything less than terrifying. Thank you so much, Granger. There's a pouch of Galleons that just literally flew out the window."

"How was I supposed to know?" Hermione folded her arms and leaned against the windowsill. "It's not as though they wear little labels. 'Do not release, untrained and wild'. What are you doing buying wild owls in any case? I thought owl breeders worked from eggs, trained them up from tiny little chicks or whatnot."

"We do." Draco sighed and straightened up. He dumped the jesses and hood into a niche beneath the perch. "When we have the eggs. That's a breed I don't have yet. That's a breed I haven't managed to _get_ yet, because it's restricted in its native country. It took me four years to make the contacts and get the permits to have that particular owl in my parliament, and you would not believe the fines that I'm going to have to pay because it's been released into the wild."

He turned to stare at her, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. "Fines that are now going to come out of your apprentice salary because it's your fault the thing escaped. 'Oh, it's stuffy in here, Malfoy, mind if I open a window?' Of course it's stuffy! It's a bloody bird enclosure! If you can't handle that, you picked the wrong career."

Hermione stomped close to him. She drew up to her full height and jammed her fists on her hips. "You can watch your attitude, Malfoy. Now, I apologize for opening the window. And it might surprise you, but I do think it's only fair that I help pay the fines you might incur." She shook a finger at him before he could open his mouth. " _However_ , you can just keep yourself civil. I'm not one of your dunderheaded lackeys like Crabbe or Goyle. I am a coworker and you will treat me as such."

Draco looked down the length of his nose at her as she glared at him. "Right now, you're a coworker who lost me a very rare and expensive bird. I'll likely be getting a visit from the Ministry tomorrow. I expect you to be here bright and early so that _you_ can give the explanation for how it disappeared. Until then?" He snapped his fingers and muttered a charm, calling a pushbroom to hand. He shoved it at her. "Clean up under the perches. I'm going for tea."

He stomped out of the owlery. Hermione stuck her tongue out at his back before she set to cleaning. She'd retrieve his bloody bird without having to pay a single fine. She'd show him.

 **Door Number Five:**  
The gates swung open, accompanied by a loud buzzing alarm. Hermione grabbed Draco's hand and bounded across the wooden platform to hop into the coaster's car. She nestled into her seat and reached for the safety harness.

"Hold on, Granger," Draco said, nudging her shoulder. "Let me get in here first." He shifted and wriggled, trying to find a place for his long legs. Muttering under his breath, he finally shoved his toes into the narrow well and jammed his knees against the seat in front of him. "Should have waited to get in the front," he said. "More leg room."

"I wanted to," Hermione said, drumming her fingers on the faux leather coverings of the seat's foam padding. She hauled the safety harness into place with a few rapid clicks. "But _someone_ was whinging and moaning about the queue and the switchbacks and how hungry he was and that he wanted a waffle cone and--"

"All right, all right. I give up. Next time I'll listen to you, how does that sound?" Draco held up his hands, both in surrender and to let the uniformed park employee check the position of his harness. The teen pushed the harness down until it clicked one more time, then gave it a quick yank to check it wouldn't move. He nodded as he stepped to the next car in line, performing the same actions with a fast, efficient set of motions. Draco wondered how many thousands of times the kid had checked the same seats.

Hermione bounced and fidgeted in her seat, her mouth stretched in a wide grin. Pulling her hair back, she fastened it at her nape with an elastic. "You'll want to push your head and shoulders against the back of the seat," she said as she leaned forward to peer at Draco around her harness. "Since it's your first time. Helps with whiplash."

Draco's eyes widened and he stared at her. "You didn't tell me this thing could injure me."

"Oh, shush." Hermione smacked his thigh with a grin. "Hardly anyone ever gets hurt. Just don't act a fool and you'll be fine. It's like flying, Malfoy. You'll love it."

Draco eyed her suspiciously, then wrapped his fingers around her hand. "If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me, I hope you know. I refuse to die alone." A klaxon sounded, making him jump. He squeezed her fingers and took a deep breath as a series of metallic clanks reverberated through the coaster's train and platform.

Hermione grinned even wider as the teen employees walked the length of the car one more time. Each stepped back, well out of range, and gave a thumb's up to the glass-enclosed operation booth. The young woman inside gave her own thumb's up, then pressed a button. Something deep in the machinery went _thump thud cachunk_ and the train started to move forward.

Draco took a deep breath, said a quick prayer in the back of his mind, and held on for the ride.


End file.
